


The Gift

by Stormlight (Quickening)



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Fantasy, Humor, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 12:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5707564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quickening/pseuds/Stormlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crystal hovered, spinning in place with a soft, golden glow. She flinched away, lest it touch her. "What is it?" she gasped.<br/>He tilted his head, a smile twitching at his lips. "It's a crystal. Nothing more," he chanted, sing-song.<br/>"You're so full of it. Your crystals are ALWAYS more than nothing."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> One of my first Labyfics I wrote back in 2000. I had started revising it awhile back, but set it aside to work on other things. However, in tribute to the late, great David Bowie, I pulled it out today and finished revising it in order to post. Farewell, Mr. Bowie. Your brilliance will be sorely missed.
> 
> Disclaimers: Labyrinth and the characters of Labyrinth do not belong to me. I am merely borrowing them for the purpose of writing this story. However, all characters never appearing in the movie or the novelization are mine, as is this story, plot and setting.

   "Hello! Earth calling Sarah Williams! Are you in there?"

   A hard fist rapped against Sarah's head, making her jump in surprise and snap out of the daze she'd fallen into while listening to her friend prattle on about … _something_ or other. She immediately brought her attention back to Kimberly and did her best to look as though she'd been paying attention to whatever the petite high-school senior had been telling her.

   Something to do with the English Literature exam they were supposed to be studying for? No, they'd pretty much given up actual studying as soon as the snacks and hot chocolate had made an appearance, courtesy of Sarah's step-mom. "Um … right. That'll be fine," she hazarded, not at all certain of what "that" was.

   Kim wasn't buying it, of course; she slanted her friend a suspicious look. "Okay, fess up. You didn't hear a word I said."

   "Of course I did." Sarah squirmed guiltily. "I just … uh..."

   Kim smirked, eyes taking on a mischievous gleam. "Really, now. If that's the case, why did you just agree to hide my kid sister's Christmas present in your bedroom?"

   Sarah blinked. "Wh-what's wrong with that?" she stammered, trying to recall even a snippet of the conversation. No good. She'd been zoned out.

   "What's _wrong_ with it?" Kim hooted with laughter. "My parents bought her a _pony."_

   Sarah opened her mouth to offer an excuse, found no immediate explanation forthcoming, and instead offered a sheepish grin. "All right, fine," she admitted. "You caught me. I'm sorry. I was thinking about something."

   "You're _always_ thinking about something. What's bugging you this time? Having trouble in your acting class again?"

   She shrugged, swirling the dredges of her cocoa around in the mug. "Nah. It's going okay, I guess."

   "You _guess_?" Kim pursed her lips. "You were leaping for joy at the chance to take this weekend course. It's just what you always wanted, you said. What happened?"

   Sarah shrugged again. "I don't know," she sighed. "I guess … it isn't what I thought it'd be. It's been six months since the classes started, and so far the only thing I've learned from Madam Carter is how much I absolutely _suck_ at acting. I can't seem to get anything right! I think Madam Carter's given up on me by this point. She says my heart isn't in it, and it shows through my dialogue and actions. She says I'm wooden and … _disinterested_."

   "Ah, what does she know? It isn't like she's a first-class actress or anything!" Kim scoffed. "Don't they say 'Those who can't, teach', or something like that?"

   "Well, but, she's no slouch. She's got years of experience and I can't help thinking that maybe she's not wrong." Sarah frowned. "All I ever wanted was to be an actress, like my mom. But lately, it just … doesn't hold the same appeal. The idea just doesn't excite me like it used to. And the more Madam Carter insists that I'm just wasting my time on something I don't really love, the more I believe her. Ever since that dream started—"

   "Oh, not _the dream_ again." Kim shook her head, looking disgusted. "What's with this dream, anyway? You keep talking about it, but you never really _talk_ about it! Like, what's this dream all about, anyway?"

   "That isn't important." Sarah waved off her questions. "But wouldn't _you_ think it's weird if you started having the exact same dream over and over again? It's been going on ever since—" She snapped her mouth shut, cutting herself off before she blurted something that she _knew_ Kim would never understand.

   Kim didn't look satisfied. "So, why all the secrecy? Why not just tell me what it's about? Or is it something dirty you're too embarrassed to admit to?" She grinned and waggled her eyebrows.

   Sarah pulled a pillow off her bed and threw it at her, nearly knocking the plate of cookies off her desk. "Don't be disgusting!"

   "Oh, sorry. I forgot I was talking to a _prude_ for a minute." Kim rolled her eyes and threw the pillow back at her. "So, just spill it already! You know I'll keep nagging until you do."

   Sarah heaved a long-suffering sigh. Kimberly did not make idle threats. If she wanted to know something, she'd keep prying until she got annoying enough to make Sarah cave in. "Oh, fine," she huffed. "But I'm telling you, it's not that exciting. It starts with me running through a dark forest. I can hear someone calling my name, and I keep trying to find him, but I—"

   "Ohhh, so there _is_ a 'him' involved, huh?" Kim perked up with interest, and Sarah wished she'd kept her mouth shut.

   "Anyhow, his voice eventually brings me into this beautiful clearing that's bathed all in silver light. The moon is out, and it's so big it fills the sky, which is practically _dripping_ with stars. It's the kind of setting you'd read in a fairy tale, you know?"

   "Yeah. Sure." Kim was giving her that _look._ The one she reserved specifically for people she believed were about two grapes short of a fruitcake.

   Sarah glanced away, embarrassed. She considered Kim a friend, but she knew they didn't have much in common, except they happened to sit next to each other in English Literature. She was pretty sure Kim preferred fashion magazines over fairy tales and mythology, though. "A-anyway," she mumbled, "it's always right there that I wake up. I never get to see his face or anything. Weird, huh?"

   "Oh, I dunno." Kim's eyes were twinkling. "Sounds like _maybe_ somebody has a little crush on somebody else," she teased. "Do you recognize the voice or anything? Does he sound cute? Ooh, maybe it's that John guy from your acting class! He's got a cute little ass, and I'll bet you totally check him out when you think nobody's watching."

   "Don't be stupid." Sarah glared at her friend, wounded by her lack of sympathy, even if it was no more than she'd expected. "I do not check him out! Besides, pretty sure John has a _boyfriend_."

   "Oh. Well, then maybe it's got something to do with the whole acting thing? Like, you know, a premonition or something. The voice is, like, your future calling to you, and you gotta follow it to get to it."

   "Thanks, Yoda. Any more pearls of wisdom to drop into my lap?"

   "Well, excuse _me_ for trying to help!" Kim pouted and flipped her blond hair over her shoulder. "What do _you_ think it means then, smartass?"

   Sarah shrugged. "If I knew that, it wouldn't bug me so much," she grumbled. "I don't think it has anything to do with acting, though." In fact, she had a pretty good idea that it had everything to do with another matter, entirely. But she sure wasn't about to raise _that_ particular subject. "I've been thinking lately, maybe it's time to give up on trying to become an actress."

   There was a moment of stunned silence, before Kim was suddenly scrambling across the rug and taking Sarah's shoulders in a hard grip. "Are you _crazy_?" she shrieked, giving her a little shake. "Ever since I met you, all you've talked about was becoming an actress like your mom! Your dad spent five hundred bucks for this class you're taking, and now you're saying you don't want to _act_?"

   "It's not that I don't _want_ to. Sort of. I mean, it's kind of hard to stay motivated to keep pursuing acting when all I'm ever told is how I'm not good enough and … and maybe I'm really not. Besides that, I… Well, something happened a few years back that kind of made me rethink some of my life goals. Before, I wanted to be just like my mom, but now, I dunno. Maybe I don't really care whether I'm like her or not. I mean, it's not like _she'd_ care whether I followed in her footsteps or anything. I haven't even seen her since I was eight years old."

   Kim shrugged. "Look, I'm no student counselor. But it's your life, and if you don't want to act, then don't. Just remember, we're seniors now, and graduation isn't that far off. You should start deciding on some _other_ career path, unless you'll be satisfied with flipping hamburgers or cleaning someone else's toilets for the rest of your life once we get out there in the real world." She started gathering forgotten notebooks and papers, jamming them into her book bag. "Also, don't tell your parents that they wasted five hundred bucks on a class you aren't even interested in anymore. They'll probably disown you."

   Sarah grinned weakly as she escorted Kim to the front door, their "study session" over for the day.

   Christmas vacation had officially started, and in two days, the family was traveling to the country to visit Sarah's grandparents. She had not seen them in nearly a year, and while she was glad for the chance to visit, at the same time she almost wished she could stay behind. She wasn't into celebrating Christmas this year. Actually, ever since _that_ event, she hadn't felt like celebrating Christmas or any _other_ holiday. Not even her own birthdays. It was as if all the excitement and anticipation had been sucked out of them. After all, what could _possibly_ compare to the excitement and danger of the magical Labyrinth she'd left behind three years ago?

   Sometimes, it felt like the whole adventure had only been a fantastic dream, but she _knew_ it had really happened. She'd never forget how she had, in a fit of selfish anger, wished her baby brother to the Goblin King, and what had happened for the duration of the next thirteen hours. She wished she _could_ forget the petty, spoiled child she'd been, demanding things she had no right to demand, trying to act like the adult she was far from being.

   As brutal as his methods were, she had to admit that maybe Jareth had done her a favor by forcing her to face her inner child. He'd taught her a harsh lesson she might not have learned by any other means, and as a result, she'd gained new insight into her own psyche, along with a much-needed dose of maturity.

   At the same time, she had come away from the game feeling as if part of her was missing. In exchange for this lesson in adulthood, Jareth had taken her innocence.

   The crystal ballroom—designed to showcase all manner of voyeurism and sexual desire with a brutal honesty that had left her breathless and lightheaded—had been the setting to stir the curiosity of her young, untried heart. His alluring gaze had been the snare to catch and trap her. His honeyed, sensual voice had beguiled and charmed and beckoned the first stirrings of arousal until she'd almost melted into his arms, her mouth nearly aching for the foreign touch and taste of a man's lips.

   Of _his_ lips.

   For a moment, she'd nearly allowed herself to give in to the overwhelming temptation, to the dark invitation glowing in the Goblin King's magical eyes. But reality had reasserted itself, and the dream had shattered around her, leaving her with nothing but mountains of dirt, debris, confusion, and very little time.

   She sometimes felt like she could hate him for using her so thoughtlessly like that. But it had been his game, after all, and the only rules were his rules. He had only been doing what the villain was supposed to do, after all. Was it fair of her to blame him when all he'd done was play his assigned role?

   Well, maybe not, but it was much easier to blame _him_ for the way things had ended, rather than herself. She'd rather hate him than spend her time wondering what might have happened had the final confrontation turned out differently.

   Toby would have been turned into a goblin, of course, she told herself sternly, and _she'd_ still be trapped Underground, probably forever. She'd never been certain of what the rules pertaining to the loser's fate might have been, but it didn't matter anyway, did it? Allowing Toby to become a goblin was completely unacceptable.

   She refused to let herself wonder if staying with Jareth would have been a terrible ordeal, if what she'd seen in his eyes during their dance was real. The ball itself had been a farce to make her lose track of herself and her time and her brother. But had the banked desire smoldering in his eyes been a farce, as well, or had it been truth as he'd seen fit to show her? After all, there were times when truth was more shocking than fiction, and it would certainly be in his nature to use both of them against her. The fact was, she would never know what had been real and what had not, and that was the end of it.

   But no matter how often she insisted that it was better this way, the not-knowing, she had never quite managed to convince herself.

 


	2. Two

   The dream came again that night.

   It started out as it always did, with Sarah running through a night-shadowed forest, chasing the soft voice calling to her, as elusive as a spirit. _"_ _Where are you?"_ her dream-self called, but she received no reply but for another whisper of her name brushing across her mind and soul, soft as a kiss.

   There was light ahead, cool and silver in the darkness, and as she stumbled into the moonlit glen, frantically searching for her unseen visitor, she somehow knew the dream was about to end. She would wake up and find herself alone in bed.

   Except … this time she didn't. This time, she remained right were she was within the glen. She looked around, confused. What was going on? Why was it suddenly _different_?

   The voice whispered her name again, and she spun around, trying to find its source, but only shadows greeted her. _"_ _Where are you?"_ she demanded, voice echoing eerily through the trees. A soft rustle of feathers in wind caught her attention; she turned, startled, in time to see a large, white shape floating away on ghostly wings, vanishing into the wide ribbon of moonlight.

   An … owl?

 _"Wait!"_ she cried, but it was too late. The creature had fled, and now she felt the familiar pull of her dream-self being dragged into familiar, smothering grayness. She woke with a gasp, heart pounding, every detail of the dream engraved clearly into her memory.

   "An owl," she whispered, as her heart slowed its frantic pace.

   "Sarah, hurry up! We're going to be late!"

   Irene's impatient voice drifted up to Sarah, who sighed and zipped her carry bag closed. The two days had passed quickly, and today was the trip to the house her father had grown up in. It was a five-hour drive into the country from the suburbs of New York, and Robert Williams wanted to get an early start.

   "I'll be right down!" she called, turning to make sure her room was in order. It looked just as it always did. She hadn't changed it much over the years. Even the furniture was still in the same arrangement, and all of her books still lined the shelves in the exact same order of most-to-least favorite. She had never been able to give away those childhood books. It felt too much like giving up old friends.

   Well. None, except for one thin, red book with gold stamping on its cover. This she had banished into a box in the back of her closet, and there it would remain, a sad reminder of a past she would just as soon forget.

   Stored in the same box were a number of other childhood treasures; everything she owned that reminded her of the Labyrinth and its king. These items were packed carefully in newspaper and soft cotton to protect them from decay. Even though she didn't want to look at them anymore, they were still important to the small part of her that couldn't forget. There was the music box her mother had bought her for her tenth birthday, with its princess dressed in a replica of the beautiful gown Sarah had worn in the enchanted ballroom. A statue of a fairy prince which bore a haunting similarity to the Goblin King. Her own small labyrinth puzzle, something she'd gotten ages ago from who-knew-where. The stuffed animals that bore eerie resemblance to the creatures she'd met in the Labyrinth. Even her bookends, which looked a little too much like a certain dwarf she'd once known, had been packed away and replaced with a pair of dragons.

   Other knickknacks had been banished to the box, as well. Several small figurines of fairies had been replaced with cute little winged unicorns; Sarah had decided she no longer liked fairies after her first disappointing encounter with a real one. The framed print of the four-dimensional stairway room brought back some rather bitter memories, and thus had been replaced with a drawing of a wolf howling at the moon.

   There was also the owl statuette her step-grandmother had given her the year before. It was a perfect replica of the white owl Jareth favored, and Sarah had shuddered when she'd unwrapped it. She'd pretended to like it, so as not to hurt her grandmother's feelings, and had reluctantly placed it on the shelf where the stuffed animals once resided.

   There it sat for all of three days, seemingly more alive than its heavy ceramic frame made it look. Its glassy eyes had stared into her whenever she tried to sleep at night, which unnerved her to no end. So she finally gave up and packed the owl into the box as well, wrapping it securely in a piece of black silk, because she had once read that silk was supposed to muffle magic. Irene, of course, had been curious as to why the owl was no longer there. Sarah had stammered for a few moments, trying to think up a suitable excuse, and finally blurted out that it had fallen from the shelf and had broken into too many pieces to properly glue together. Irene had not been happy to hear it.

   "Sarah! Are you ready or aren't you?"

   "I'm coming!" Sarah shouted irritably, hoisted her bag over her shoulder and grabbed her heavy coat and scarf. She pounded down the stairs, suddenly glad to leave her room, which had begun to feel a bit oppressive. "Well, let's go already! We want to be at Gram and Pap's place before Christmas arrives, don't we?"

   Irene muttered to herself as she buckled Toby securely into his car seat and shut the door. Sarah climbed in the other side and gave Toby a smile when the pre-schooler grinned at her. "We goin to Gwanma's an' Gwampa's howse," he informed her importantly, his large, blue eyes regarding her seriously.

   "I know." She ruffled the soft blond curls on his head. "Are you ready for lots of presents this year?"

   His face split into another adorable grin. "Yeah! Lots of pwesents fow me!"

   She settled into the seat, slipped her Walkman headphones over her ears and tucked a pillow under her head. The soothing notes of Pachabel's Canon in D, coupled with the rocking movement of the ancient station wagon, soon lulled her into sleep.

* * *

   Sarah woke with a start, heart pounding as she struggled through the fog of confusion clouding her mind. The vestiges of silvered trees and moonlit wings dissipated as she rubbed her eyes and looked outside the fogged window. They had arrived at her grandparents' farmhouse, and her parents were currently unloading the car. Irene paused just long enough to shoot her a _look_ , which had her immediately scrambling to unbuckle her seat-belt and stumble out of the car to help.

   As she unbuckled a sleepy Toby from his car seat, the front door of the old house banged open and an elderly woman with graying blond hair and twinkling eyes hurried to meet them. "Well, if it isn't my long lost son come to visit his old ma," she called teasingly, her grin wide. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about us, Robbie!"

"Hi, Mom." Robert hoisted a large shopping bag filled with gifts over one shoulder and a suitcase over the other. "Pop around?"

   "Oh, Jack's out back, chopping some firewood for the stove," she replied. "Wanted to keep the house nice and warm for company. Been cold up here. I wouldn't be surprised if it started snowing by Christmas. Hello, Irene! How are you?"

   "Hi, Marie. Nice to see you." Irene hefted another suitcase out of the car.

   "Should he be chopping wood with his back?" Robert frowned in concern.

   "I told him, the old fart, but you know how he is. Anyway, come on into the house before we freeze. I've got apple cider and hot chocolate warming on the stove." Marie took the bag of gifts from her son, gave Sarah and Toby a brief hug and kiss before ushering everyone into the house, where they found Jack Williams just hanging up his coat.

   "Hey, now, looks like I got done just in time!" He gave each lady a hug, shook his son's hand, then solemnly shook Toby's little hand before he winked and pulled a candy cane from his shirt pocket. Toby beamed before retreating to his mother for help to unwrap the candy. It wasn't long before he grew far more interested in the brightly-wrapped packages under the Christmas tree.

   Marie placed the bag of gifts behind the tree before gesturing for the family to follow her upstairs. "You all know where your rooms are, so I'll just make sure you get settled before I head on down to start dinner, okay?"

   Sarah hoisted her bag and headed for the last door on the right. This was the guest room she always chose when she came for long visits, which happened less and less frequently now that she was grown up. Her face lit in a smile when she opened the door and found the room exactly the same as it always was. The handmade green, gold and cream curtains. The matching quilt spread across the four-poster bed. White oak dresser and desk pushed against the far wall, and the worn, overstuffed reading chair in the corner, still spread with its deep cranberry afghan.

   With a contented sigh, she curled up in the chair and stared out the window, which afforded her a fantastic view of a backyard that looked far more like a small wildlife reserve. There was no snow on the ground yet, but she had seen it plenty of times covered in a thick, beautiful blanket of sparkling white powder.

   Why couldn't she feel this peaceful at home, she wondered, pulling the afghan up to her chin. She thought she felt more at home in the middle of nowhere than she did back in her neighborhood, surrounded by people. She wished her parents would buy a country house like this, but she knew it'd never happen. Her father had to be close to work, and Irene was too "city" to ever enjoy living in a place like this. Up until a few years ago, Sarah had always thought _she_ was too "city" to ever enjoy living in the country. It had been her ultimate dream to move to a place like Manhattan or Los Angeles, after all.

   Maybe, she decided, if she did become an actress, she could buy a large property like this and move out there and live by herself when she retired. She could raise animals. Maybe start a wildlife sanctuary of some sort. She wouldn't mind caring for wolves or deer. Or maybe wild birds, like falcons and owls. She did love owls.

   Sarah frowned and opened her eyes. _Since when did I ever love owls?_

   Suddenly chilled, she tossed the cover off and pushed herself out of the chair. _I need some of Gram's cider,_ she decided.

   "Pull up a seat," Marie offered as Sarah entered the kitchen, filling a mug with mulled cider. "Here ya go, honey. Help yourself to some Christmas cookies, too."

   Sarah gratefully accepted the mug and took a careful sip of the hot drink. Toby was busily cramming as many cookies as he could fit into his mouth, before Irene noticed and quickly put a stop to it. Sarah listened with half an ear as her stepmother and grandmother chatted. Her thoughts began to wander, and therefore she didn't realize that Irene was trying to get her attention.

   " _Sarah!_ "

   "Huh? What?" She blinked and glanced around the table, noting their amused smiles.

   "Where were you?" Irene asked. "You looked like you'd drifted a million miles away."

   "Oh, I was just, uh, thinking about … stuff," Sarah stuttered, not meeting her eyes. She'd been thinking about the dream, to be precise, but she wasn't about to volunteer any information on the subject.

   As it turned out, she didn't have to.

   "So," Irene began coyly. "Who might this Jareth be?"

   "Huh?" Sarah was so startled that she tipped her mug over. Luckily, she'd already finished most of its contents, so there wasn't much of a mess. She concentrated on mopping up the remaining cider with napkins and tried to gather her composure. "H-how do you know about Jareth?" she finally asked, trying to sound casual (and suspecting she'd failed miserably).

   Irene raised an eyebrow. "Well, you were mumbling his name on the way up here. You were dreaming of him, I guess. So who is he?"

   Sarah's mind went blank. She hadn't dreamed of Jareth! She rarely even thought about him! Well … she supposed she did think about him, but her dream had _nothing_ to do with him! Besides that, she didn't remember calling out _any_ names, especially _that_ one.

   "Well?" Now Marie was interested. "Aren't you going to answer?" Her eyes twinkled merrily; Sarah had forgotten how much her grandmother liked to meddle.

   She opened her mouth, then closed it. "He-he's nobody," she managed to reply. "He's just—I mean … he really isn't anybody at all."

   Irene raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, and Marie chuckled. "Come on, kid, don't be shy. He must be _somebody_ , if you were dreaming about him. Is he a crush? A boyfriend, maybe?"

   Sarah choked. A secret crush? A _boyfriend_? "He's just a … a character in a storybook!" she blurted. "He's not real! You remember that book I was always reading when I was younger? He was the villain in the story. The Goblin King, remember? I don't know why I dreamed about _him_. Maybe it was like … memories or something. You know how weird my imagination is." She gave a little laugh as Irene and Gram exchanged glances.

   "Okay, if you say so," Irene finally conceded. She didn't sound the least bit convinced. She took another sip of her drink, a clear dismissal, and Sarah breathed a sigh of relief.

   Marie, however, looked as if she still wanted to press for details, but Sarah didn't feel like talking anymore. "I'm going for a walk," she mumbled. She stood and headed for the door, grabbing her coat along the way. "What's the matter with me?" she grumbled as she marched across the field toward the woods. "Getting all worked up over nothing. Ridiculous!" Her breath frosted the cold air when she sighed.

   She knew her refusal to talk about stuff like boyfriends was a sore spot with her stepmom, but it wasn't like she'd ever had a real boyfriend to talk about. And _this_ was a subject she had no idea how to approach, considering Irene had no idea about the truth behind the matter. The relationship between them had improved over the past three years, but there were some things Sarah just couldn't talk about to _anyone_ , no matter how much she wanted to. How could anyone possibly understand what she had gone through, especially her practical, no-nonsense stepmother? Irene would think she was nuts!

   Deep in thought, Sarah wasn't paying particular attention to where she was going. There was a clear path winding through the trees, so she simply allowed her feet to blindly lead her as she mused over her problems. It was only when she tripped over a stray tree root and stumbled into a bright patch of sunlight that she realized she ought to be paying more attention to where she was going.

   She glanced around and found herself in the midst of a small, perfectly round clearing covered with dried, mossy grass. She frowned. She had walked these woods many times over the years, and she could not recall ever coming across a clearing like this in her past wanderings. The setting was beautiful, though.

   And … strangely familiar.

   Her frown deepened as she attempted to recall where she'd seen it before. Then her eyes widened in shock as her hand came up to smother a sharp gasp. This was … this was _the_ _glen._ The very same one in her dream! Sure, it was flooded with the deep, red-gold light of sunset rather than the silver of full moonlight, but even the small, stunted tree growing at the far end was a spitting image of the one she recalled seeing in her dream setting.

 _That's impossible. It's just a dream,_ she thought, trying hard not to panic. How could she possibly have dreamed _this_ up?

   No. A better question was, how could it possibly be _real_?

   She forced herself to take deep, calming breaths, breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. "Okay. Relax," she told herself firmly. "There is a logical explanation for this. Maybe I did find this clearing before, and my memory used it for the dream setting."

   The theory held a certain logical appeal … but deep down, she knew it was wrong. She knew this forest, and she was certain she'd never seen the clearing before. At least, not anywhere outside of her dream.

   Well, she decided, maybe she was just going insane? That was also logical, if not a less pleasant option to consider. She'd long suspected she might be a bit mad to start with, so it wouldn't be a complete shock if she'd finally gone all the way 'round the bend. She rubbed her hands over her face.

   Okay, third option. Maybe she had fallen asleep at the kitchen table and was dreaming again. But that was a dying hope, which a vicious pinch to her arm swiftly finished off.

   She was all set to have a nice, quiet nervous breakdown when suddenly, eerily, Sarah realized she was being watched. She froze, glancing around the clearing. Nothing there. Probably a squirrel, she decided uneasily. There were plenty of those around.

   An odd, low, whistling cry drifted to her on a faint breeze, and her eyes widened. She swallowed once, her dry throat aching. The cry sounded again, drifting through the still air from directly behind her.

   Slowly, she turned until she was facing the other direction, and her eyes fell on the stunted, twisted tree at the far end of the clearing. There, in the topmost branches, perched a large bird, which regarded her calmly through large, unblinking eyes. The light poured over its feathers, burnishing them in soft gold, but Sarah barely noticed its beauty; she was too busy trying not to hyperventilate.

   The white owl slowly closed one eye, as if winking at her, and hooted again.

 


	3. Three

   Sarah didn't quite know how she made it back. After seeing the owl, it was all pretty much a blur from the time she fled the scene straight up until she pounded up the back steps of the wraparound porch, so winded from running that she could hardly breathe. She let herself into the house through the kitchen entrance and headed straight for her room. Catching sight of herself in the decorative mirror hanging in the hall, she paused to examine her reflection, pulled a face at the sight. She looked an utter wreck. Twigs and leaves had tangled in her hair, her face was bright red from her flight through the woods, and several stinging welts had raised across her cheeks where low-hanging branches must have caught her. She didn't even remember running into them, and certainly hadn't felt them when they'd hit her.

   Taking deep breaths to get her heart and racing pulse back under control, she crept down the hall, making her way stealthily toward the stairs while praying she wouldn't be noticed. No such luck.

   "Good heavens, Sarah! What happened?" Robert exclaimed as he caught sight of his disheveled daughter attempting to sneak past the living room.

   Sarah cursed silently to herself. Just her luck, the entire family was gathered. Her parents and grandparents were watching White Christmas as Toby entertained himself with a pair of homemade paper bag puppets. All eyes immediately turned to her, and she shifted uncomfortably.

   "Um. I … I saw something in the forest. I thought maybe it was, uh, dangerous," she stuttered, feeling a little foolish under their stares.

   "Did it chase you all the way back to the house?" Her father couldn't quite keep the amusement from his voice.

   "I thought it might've been a bear or something," she muttered, scowling. _Gee, thanks for the concern, Dad. Nice to know you care._

   "Don't think there are many bears around these parts. They'd be hibernating, anyway. It was probably just a deer," Marie said cheerfully. "Are you okay, honey? You look a little beat up."

   Sarah smiled weakly. "I'm fine. Just a little scratched up. I'm kind of tired, though, so I think I'm gonna turn in early." She started for the stairs.

   "What about supper?" Irene called after her. "It's beef stew. It'll be ready in a few minutes."

   "No thanks! I'm not hungry," Sarah called back, and scrambled for her room before anyone could argue. She sighed with relief when she firmly closed the door behind her. The late sunlight flowed through the large window, tinting the carpet rose and gold, and she sank into the old chair and stared blankly out at the forest, almost imagining that she could see the glen from her position. A flash of movement caught her attention, and she glanced to her right, squinting against the sunset. There was a bird flying a distance away, its wing beats slow and graceful. It reminded her of the owl.

   She scowled and savagely yanked the shade, blocking the sight. "Stupid owl shouldn't even be out of its nest yet," she muttered as she stripped her clothes and tossed them in a heap. She pulled a flannel nightgown over her head. The perfectionist in her cringed at the untidy display on the floor. The rest of her couldn't have cared less. Her stomach issued a long, low grumble of protest, which was also ignored as she climbed into the bed and pulled the covers over her head, trying to block the remaining light.

   Why was she even trying, she thought grouchily. She was so keyed up, she probably wouldn't get any sleep, anyway. Maybe she should go down for supper, after all. At least then the hunger pangs wouldn't distract her. Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes and began to count sheep. It was a silly idea, and it probably wouldn't work anyway, but at least it kept her from thinking too much about … other things.

   As she counted, she felt her thoughts growing hazier. The sheep cavorting over her imaginary fence began to morph, until they looked less like sheep and much more like sheep _dogs_. _Merlin?_ she wondered sleepily. Or was that Ambrosius? Funny, she'd never noticed how much the two dogs actually resembled each other.

   The next dog that leaped the fence had a small, furry rider on its back, which greatly resembled a fox dressed like a knight. The rider laughed heartily and brandished a familiar wand as it passed.

_Hey! That's…!_

   Sarah watched with surprise as the pair landed on the other side of the fence. It had been a long time since she'd seen her small friend. _"_ _Sir Didymus!"_ she called, but the fox didn't turn around. Forgetting herself, she scrambled over the fence and took off after the trotting sheepdog. _"_ _Ambrosius! Sir Didymus! Wait up!"_

   They still didn't turn, didn't seem to realize she was following them. She stubbornly jogged after them, trying to catch up, but although Sir Didymus didn't appear to be in any great hurry, he still kept getting further and further away. She was starting to feel a bit like Alice chasing the White Rabbit.

   When the knight and steed vanished into the forest that appeared out of nowhere, she didn't hesitate to plunge in after them. Of course, as soon as the trees had closed around her, she belatedly realized what had just happened and where she was. It seemed that she _had_ fallen asleep, and something was now leading her dream-self a merry chase, right toward a place she knew she didn't want to go.

   At least this time she _knew_ she was dreaming, which meant she could make herself wake up again.

   Well … that was the _theory_ , anyway. But theories, it appeared, didn't always work the way one expected them to. No matter what she tried to make herself wake up, she remained stubbornly asleep. So she tried, at least, to make herself stop running. That had slightly better results, but she was still being drawn forward, quite against her will, toward a pale, silver light in the distance.

 _Oh, all right,_ fine. _Be_ _that way,_ she thought rebelliously, giving up. She let herself be pulled along until she reached the clearing in no time at all. This time, instead of stopping at the edge, she sped up and ran straight through to the other side, aiming for the stunted tree. _The owl will be in the tree,_ she thought, _right where I saw it today in the real forest. This time it isn't going to get away from me!_

   But the owl was _not_ in the tree. The tree was quite empty. It looked rather forlorn and abandoned, standing all by its lonesome. She glanced around, half-expecting a white flash to go winging off into the moonlight. The clearing looked exceptionally empty, but she felt something there, watching her. And it was really starting to piss her off.

 _"Okay, I'm here!"_ she called, and a small part of her noted that her voice did not echo at all as it would have inside a _real_ forest. It sounded more like she'd been trapped inside a box, where every sound was muffled and closed-off. The thought made her feel claustrophobic. _"_ _Where are you? I know you're there so you might as well give up! Why are you doing this? Why do I keep having this dream? I_ demand _that you come out."_

_"So, still demanding things, are we? I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose."_

   Sarah whirled with a shriek of surprise, and wondered if it was at all possible to die of actual heart failure in a dream. There he came, a graceful, ghostly figure drifting regally through dappled patches of moonlight and shadow. His alluring, mismatched eyes met and held her own with an unnerving intensity that made her tremble. His thin, mocking smile faintly lifted sensual lips as wisps of silky hair brushed his perfect face. A long, pale cloak swirled about his tall frame in an unfelt breeze. He was the perfect figure of a man, almost too perfect to be real, beautiful and terrifying at once.

   Sarah suddenly realized she was scared to death. _"_ _Jareth,"_ she whispered as her face drained of color.

   He cocked his head, stood very close, but he did not touch her, as if he sensed her fear. _"_ _Hullo, Sarah,"_ he murmured. _"_ _It has been a long time. You're looking … well."_

   Sarah struggled to reply, to dredge up some shred of courage to chew him out the way she'd fully intended before actually _seeing_ him again. She had forgotten how utterly devastating the Goblin King's presence was. His powerful aura reached out and wrapped her in a cocoon of magic and desire, and she found it exceedingly difficult to resist the sudden urge to lean forward and steal a kiss from his gorgeous mouth.

   What would it be like to kiss such a man…?

   She blinked at the dangerous direction her thoughts were suddenly taking, hastily lowered her eyes before Jareth could read them and figure out just what was on her mind. It was too late for that; his eyes seemed to be laughing at her as he swayed forward a little; a clear invitation.

   She finally mustered the will to force her traitorous body to step away, reminding herself that this man was the _enemy_ , damn it! _"What do you want?"_ she demanded, wincing at the thin, breathy inflection that escaped, rather than the pissed-off tone she'd been aiming for. Fear was not something any sane person should be showing in front of a predator like Jareth.

   She made herself take several more steps away, trying to put a safer amount of distance between them. He was dressed, she realized, in the same glittering, midnight-blue ensemble he'd worn after he'd abducted her into the crystal ball.

   Wait. Hadn't he been wearing that wispy, feathered cloak-thing just a moment ago?

   Her eyes widened, and she quickly dropped her gaze, not wholly surprised to find herself clothed in a familiar, exquisite creation of white tulle and satin.

   She glanced at the Goblin King, who regarded her without expression. He seemed to be waiting for something. It almost seemed as though he wished for _her_ to make the next move. She clenched her teeth stubbornly and refused to say or do anything. A smirk twitched at Jareth's mouth, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he silently laughed at her obstinance. Then he extended a slender, black-gloved hand, and Sarah flinched back, half-expecting him to throw a snake at her as he'd done once before. But he only stood there with hand outstretched, still watching her in that unnerving manner.

   Music abruptly swelled from the stillness surrounding them; a beautiful, haunting melody that she quickly recognized as the song he'd sung to her at the ball, and she gaped at him in astonishment. His intentions were suddenly very clear; he wished to dance with her, just as he had before.

   Her brow furrowed as she hesitated. Truth be told, the crystal ball was one of the more favorable memories she held of her trip through the Labyrinth, despite the treacherous intent behind it. She'd felt like a real princess dancing with her prince. She still recalled the warmth in his eyes, the tender expression on his face as he'd gazed at her so lovingly. As though she was someone precious to him. His love song had touched her heart, and even though he had merely been trying to distract her from her mission, she couldn't help wondering sometimes if there might have been actual truth behind his words and gestures.

   Jareth still waited, and she still gazed at his hand as though it would vanish if she took her eyes away for even a moment. Finally, she glanced up to regard him uncertainly, wondering what sort of trick he was trying to play on her now. His expression softened slightly. A look of gentle understanding passed through his eyes. _"_ _Touch your dreams,"_ he whispered.

   She blinked in surprise, but he said no more. Another moment's hesitation, a deeply-drawn breath, and she slowly extended her white-gloved hand, expecting to feel a strong grip closing about her fingers. What she felt was the disorienting sensation of suddenly being pulled backwards. Startled, she lunged forward, trying to grasp his hand, and instead grasped nothing but air. _"_ _J-Jareth?"_ she called, panicking as the pull on her spine grew stronger.

   The Goblin King was fading before her very eyes, like a shadow before the rising sun. The sound of wing-beats filled the air.

_"_ _Jareth!"_

   Sarah lunged from her bed, panting harshly with the shock of suddenly being wide awake. The shade on the window had rolled up and was spinning chaotically, its plastic rod slapping against the glass with a noise like the wild flapping of wings. Bright, morning sunlight poured into the room and over the bed, illuminating the dust mites dancing in the air like sparkles of stardust. She stared at the dappled patterns it made on the quilt, luminous gold on shaded green, and tried to tell herself that the tears falling from her eyes were because of the brilliance of it.

* * *

   It was difficult to go through the next two days without letting on that anything was wrong, but Sarah hadn't taken all those acting lessons for nothing. She laughed, she smiled, she played with Toby, and talked to her grandmother about school, the play her acting class was soon putting on, and what her plans were for the future. She had replied "acting" out of habit before remembering that she really wasn't sure what she wanted to do anymore. She recalled Kim's advice about coming up with another game plan if she didn't intend to pursue her first choice. But she didn't have a second choice just yet. She couldn't think of another single hobby that she was good at and enjoyed. Well, she thought, except for reading. She enjoyed reading, and she was awfully good at it. Maybe she could become a librarian.

   Christmas Eve finally arrived, and the Williams family gathered around the tree after supper, eager to begin the traditional opening of the gifts. Even Sarah felt a little more into the holiday spirit when her grandfather, with a mysterious smile, handed her a large, heavy box wrapped in silver paper. "Merry Christmas," he told her as she eagerly tore it open. Inside, she found a beautiful figure of a dragon in full flight, finely sculpted and painted in silver and gold. A faceted gem was clutched in its gold-tipped claws, and the base was formed of leaded crystal, cut to look like the tips of jagged mountains. "Oh, it's _beautiful_ ," she breathed, carefully removing it from its Styrofoam cushioning.

   Marie ruffled her hair fondly. "I thought you'd take a shine to it the moment I saw it."

   "I'll treasure it," Sarah promised.

   "Hopefully better than you treasured the owl my mother gave you," Irene murmured. Sarah flushed and pointedly ignored her stepmother in favor of helping Toby tear apart a brightly-wrapped package that was nearly as tall as him. It contained something a bit less fragile than a sculpture, but just as exciting. "Ooh! A caw!" Toby squealed, pointing to the picture of a Power Wheels jeep decorating the side of the box. "I got a caw!"

   Robert shook his head. "Oh, fabulous. Thanks, Dad. Now I get to teach another one how to drive," he groaned, earning a laugh from everyone but Toby, who was too busy opening his "caw" and demanding to ride in it at once. It took some doing, but they managed to convince the little boy to wait at least until the sun came up before going outside.

   Sarah watched with a contented smile, her hoard piled on her lap. All of the gifts had been passed out, and Toby took it upon himself to collect the paper and leftover ribbons and put them in a bag. He used the shopping bag that had carried their presents, but before he had gotten very far, he suddenly frowned and exclaimed in a very loud voice, "Oh _no!"_

   "What's wrong?" Irene asked, alarmed.

   Toby shook his head in a surprisingly adult gesture and planted a fist on his hips. "We fowgot a pwesent," he stated with obvious disapproval.

   "We did?" Robert looked surprised. "I was sure we passed them all out."

   Toby reached into the bag, and came up holding a small package. It was wrapped in white paper that shimmered like a pearl, tied with a wide, golden ribbon. Irene took it, frowning with confusion. "Where did this come from?" she wondered. "This isn't one of ours." She checked the silver tag dangling from the ribbon, then looked at Sarah in surprise. "It's for you."

   Sarah was equally surprised as she accepted the box. She examined it curiously, seeking a name. "Are you sure neither of you got this for me and maybe just forgot?" Her parents shook their heads.

   "Does it say who it's from?" Marie asked. Sarah shook her head. The tag had nothing but her name penned in beautiful, scrolling calligraphy. Weird. Nobody she knew wrote like that.

   "What about Kimberly?" her father suggested.

   Sarah thought it over. She'd exchanged presents with her friend during their last study session, but maybe Kim had managed to sneak an extra gift into the bag somehow. It didn't seem likely—This sort of surprise wasn't really Kim's style, and besides that, her handwriting was atrocious—but she couldn't think of any other explanation.

   "Open it!" Toby demanded, bouncing impatiently. Sarah carefully opened the gift, trying not to tear the exquisite paper. Finally, she eased it off, and in her hands she held a box of smooth, white wood. It looked like a jewelry box, and as she turned it over to examine it, she heard something move inside. Curiously, she opened the lid and—

   "Oh, Sarah, how lovely," she heard her grandmother say over her shoulder, but she didn't respond. She couldn't. She was frozen, all of the warmth draining from her body as she stared down at the perfect crystal formed of translucent gold, laying nestled in a bed of white velvet. It looked as delicate as a golden bubble, shining and glimmering in such a manner that it may have been crafted of … magic.

   Sarah slammed the lid down, catching her thumb sharply. The resulting pain brought her back to her senses … somewhat. "Sarah!" Irene scolded. "Be more careful! You might break it!"

   She doubted that. She had once seen a crystal much like this one bounce up and down several flights of stairs, ricochet off a few walls and ceilings in the process, and it had not received so much as a scratch. But she could hardly tell her stepmother _that_ , now could she? "I … I don't feel very well," she stammered. "I think maybe I'd better go rest for awhile." She stood on trembling legs, still clutching the box.

   "Are you all right?" Marie asked in concern. "You don't look so good."

   She somehow managed a smile. "I-I'll be fine," she lied. "It was probably that second helping of spaghetti. Your spaghetti is so good I couldn't help myself. I'll take some stomach medicine and see if that helps."

   "All right, dear. Just call if you need anything."

   She nodded before turning to flee to her room. Her family probably thought she was losing her mind or something, and they had every right to. She wasn't too certain of her own sanity at the moment. How else could she explain what was happening to her? She sat down on the edge of the bed, box clutched firmly in hand. Fighting against common sense for a moment, she slowly opened the lid, hoping that what she'd found the first time was just a figment of her overtaxed imagination.

   The crystal gleamed just as brightly in moonlight as it did in firelight, as though a piece of the sun had somehow been caged inside, and it occurred to her suddenly that this was unlike the Goblin King's normal crystals. If memory served, _they_ had always been as clear as glass.

   So maybe this _wasn't_ from the Goblin King, after all? Maybe it was from a … a secret admirer or something? True, she'd never been what one might consider the secret-admiring type, but there was a first time for everything, right?

   She glared down at the crystal, willing it to go away. Her eyes began to tear and burn from staring so hard, and as she blinked to clear them, a stray tear landed on the crystal, sliding smoothly over its flawless surface. Without thinking, she reached to wipe it off.

   As soon as her fingers touched the glassy sphere, a flood of images filled her mind; memories of her journey into the Labyrinth, the faces of those she had met inside, of those whom she had called her friends. The image of glittering, mismatched eyes filled with sad longing caused unnamed feelings to rise as she recalled her first awe-filled meeting with the arrogant Goblin King, and her victorious, bittersweet confrontation in the end.

   He had seemed so washed out, pale and bitter, and it had cut her heart like a knife to see him looking so … defeated. It didn't seem _right_ , but she knew it had been the only way. Even so, it didn't make her feel any better about herself. It didn't erase the guilt she felt, knowing her selfish demands were what had brought this upon him. _He_ knew it as well as she, but even so, there had been no hatred in his eyes when she'd chanted the final words of his defeat. Only a deep, lingering sadness for what might have been.

   Sarah snatched her hand away from the crystal and slammed the lid on the box, hastily tossed it onto the other side of the bed. From somewhere inside, she felt a familiar whisper.

_Touch your dreams…_

   She shook her head. She didn't want to touch _anything._ What she _wanted_ was some actual peace. That wasn't so much to ask for, was it? Still, she suspected there was really only one way to go about getting it, and it wasn't likely to come to her without a little effort on _her_ part.

   Suddenly determined, she jumped to her feet and opened her door, peeking into the hall. Everything was dark. How long had she been sitting in there, anyway? It looked like everyone else had already gone to bed.

   Well, good. It would make sneaking out of the house a whole lot easier.

   She crept down the stairs, cringed at every little creak and groan that announced her passing, until she finally made it to the back door in the kitchen. She shrugged on her jacket, found a flashlight on top of the refrigerator, and quietly opened the door to step outside.

   She didn't switch on the flashlight until she had reached the forest, and even then she waited until the trees had fully blocked her view of the house. She jogged along at a fast pace, trying to shake the eerie sense of deja vu. This seemed entirely too familiar; she felt as if she was reliving her dream.

   There was the clearing, just ahead of her. Switching off the light, she cautiously made her way toward it. She stumbled a little over hidden tree roots and stray rocks, bit back growls and curses, and generally made enough racket to wake every living creature within a ten mile radius. With a sigh, she gave up trying to sneak in and simply concentrated on getting there without breaking anything vital. No need to make an embarrassing entrance, after all.

   Her heart pounded, and she couldn't decide whether it was from excitement or fear. She decided that she didn't care, just so long as she finally got a genuine conclusion to her dream. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the clearing and looked around cautiously. She didn't know what she expected to see. The owl, perhaps? Or maybe Jareth himself would be there, waiting for her arrival.

   What she actually found … was nothing.

   There was no Goblin King waiting for her. The white owl was absent, as well. The only creature there was a startled deer, its back burnished with silver moonlight. It regarded her as though resenting her intrusion on its privacy, before bounding away into the forest with a flash of white tail.

   She couldn't quite shake off an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

   "Uh… hello?" she called tentatively, and this time, her voice echoed clearly as it had not in the dream, startling a few roosting birds from their nests. They burst from the foliage with an explosion of feathers and angry squawks, and managed to scare Sarah half to death. She glared after them as they winged away before turning her attention back to what was really important; namely, how much of a fool she was.

   "I am such an idiot," she grumbled. It took considerable willpower to resist the urge to throw herself on the ground and give in to a righteous tantrum, complete with screaming, beating fists, and kicking feet. Of course he wasn't there! He had probably _never_ been there, and even if he was, why had she ever let herself believe that he was anything other than an arrogant, stuck-up, child-snatching trickster? She clenched her teeth so hard that her jaw ached, as the ground in front of her began to waver and blur.

   She indignantly swiped at her eyes. There was no way she would give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. He had more than enough to laugh about as it was. What right did the jerk have to come back into her life after she had gone to all that trouble to kick him out of it? Didn't he understand the meaning of "get lost"?

   "I hope you're happy, Jareth!" she shouted, startling awake several more birds and a pair of squirrels, who chattered at her angrily from their branches. "Congratulations! You've succeeded in driving me _crazy_ , if that was your goal! Go ahead and yuk it up! I'm _finished._ Do you understand? No more games! Just go away and _leave me alone_!" With those words, Sarah turned on her heel to stalk haughtily away.

   She had not taken more than two steps, however, when a soft, richly accented voice murmured in her ear, "I have never attempted to drive you anywhere, dearest Sarah, and I am certainly not laughing."

 


	4. Four

   At the sound of that deep, sultry, hauntingly familiar voice, Sarah's eyes slowly widened. Was it … possibly…?

   She drew in a deep, shuddering breath and forced herself to turn. And there he was.

   He stood in the middle of the clearing as the moonlight washed over him in a fall of silver brilliance, gilding him in light and shadows. His very essence seemed to draw in the light and reflect it in the misty aura surrounding him, his pale face expressionless as he regarded her. Through wisps of silvered hair, his exotic eyes met and held hers, and she forgot how to breathe for a moment.

   "Why—?" She swallowed against her dry throat. "Why did you come here?" Her voice came out sounding much more husky than she'd intended, holding a sort of low, sultry tone she'd never realized she could make before. Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and she cleared her throat nervously to hide her embarrassment.

   He tilted his head, lips twitching briefly in amusement. "I was given the impression that you wished me here," he murmured, his voice carrying clearly even though a good distance still separated them. "Can it be that you've changed your mind?" He tsked softly. "It seems you've not changed in all these years."

   She scowled at the subtle barb. "Well, neither have _you_ , apparently," she sniffed. "Am I the only person whose dreams you keep popping up in, or are you _so_ bored with your life that you decided to go dream-hopping all over the world to give yourself some extra excitement?"

   He laughed at that, and sharp teeth glinted in the moonlight. "No. Just you," he replied in a tone laced with gentle humor. "It is an intriguing notion, though. I may have to try it sometime."

   She clenched her hands until her nails bit into her palms. "What. Do. You. _Want_?"

   They were suddenly face-to-face, only she didn't remember seeing him move. Or maybe _she_ was the one who had moved, but she didn't remember that, either. She found it too awkward to look him directly in the eye, so she contented herself to stare at the odd pendant he wore around his neck, glinting brightly against his pale chest. Funny how she couldn't remember ever seeing him without it. She wondered vaguely what significance it held. Was it a symbol of his nobility, or did it mean something more? Or maybe it didn't mean anything at all, and he just really liked necklaces—

   "The question is, Sarah," Jareth spoke quietly, startling her from her thoughts, "what is it that _you_ want?"

   She glanced up and was instantly transfixed by an intent gaze. "I … I just want—" She hesitated. What _did_ she want, anyway? She hadn't quite made up her mind about that … although several ideas currently ran a game of tag inside her head.

   The atmosphere felt strange; heavy and charged like the air just before a thunderstorm. Sarah shoved her hands into her coat pockets, as much to warm them as to keep them from reaching up to touch the Goblin King's face, which she was very strongly tempted to do if only to convince herself that he was really _there_.

   Something smooth and round and cold touched her palm, and she unconsciously withdrew it from her pocket, clutching the object tightly. She found herself holding the golden crystal, and her mouth dropped open. Hadn't she left the thing in its box? Sitting on the bed? At the _house_?

   "I see you found my gift," Jareth murmured. "I do hope you like it. I had it made especially for you."

   Her heart thudded, and she released the crystal like a burning coal. Instead of falling, however, it rose into the air and hovered before her face, spinning in place with a soft, golden glow. She flinched away, lest it touch her. "What is it?" she gasped.

   He tilted his head again as a smile twitched his lips. "It's a crystal. Nothing more," he chanted, sing-song.

   She huffed and glared. "You're so full of it. Your magic tricks are _always_ more than nothing!"

   "How very true," he agreed calmly, holding out a white-gloved hand. The crystal lighted gently, defying all laws of gravity as it balanced upon the tips of his fingers. "This crystal _is_ more than nothing," he added. "It will grant you anything your heart desires. All you need do is look into it, wish for it, and it will come to be."

   She offered a suspicious glare. "Really, now. My dreams, huh?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "So who do I have to wish into the Labyrinth _this_ time? My grandmother?"

   His grin was filled with mischief, just a little wolfish. "Of course not. She's far too old."

   "Then what do you expect me to do? Rob a bank? Kidnap my best friend? Murder my family? _What_?" 

   He sighed and shook his head in mock despair. "I don't remember you being this cynical," he mused. "Rude and self-centered, yes, but not cynical. What has happened to you in three years to make you so bitter?"

   "I am _not_ bitter," she huffed, stamping her foot before she could stop herself. "I happen to like my life, thank you very much, and I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your nose _out_ of it and go back to where you belong!"

   "Is that so?" He regarded her steadily. "You certainly don't _seem_ very happy. Watching you these three years, I cannot help feeling that that you've been rather depressed with how your life is going. The things you dreamed of and wished for as a child no longer seem to make you happy. Can it be that your dreams are not what you thought they were, after all?"

   "You've been _watching_ me?" She gaped at his audacity, shocked and furious and just a little scared. She opted for fury. "Where do you get off?" she hissed. "You don't know _any_ _thing_! I'm happy! I'm satisfied! I _love_ my life!" She gestured wildly to drive the point home.

   Jareth proceeded to look unimpressed. He stepped closer to her. "You try very hard to convince yourself," he murmured. "But tell me why it is that you sometimes cry yourself to sleep at night. Why do you seem so lonely, when you are surrounded by the people you claim to love?" He stepped closer, further bridging the distance between them. "Why do you gaze into the distance as if searching for a place only you can see, with such regret in your eyes when there should be only contentment? But then, you never _were_ very content with anything you had, were you?"

   Sarah stared at him, all the fight knocked clean out of her. She swallowed several times, attempted to find her voice. "Y-you've got some nerve," she stuttered. "Whatever game this is, I don't want to play. Just go away. Leave me alone. Or else I'll say the Words again!"

   "Your Words have no power over me." He shook his head, hair stirring softly about his face. "Not this time. We are not playing _that_ game, and I shall leave only when I choose." He sighed a tired little breath, offered the crystal again. "A gift," he whispered. "It is only a gift. No strings attached. No tricks. No traps. Is this not your season for giving, after all? Take it. Live your _true_ dream, if only for this night. That is all I ask."

   The golden sphere floated from his hand to hover before her eyes. It spun and gleamed, and although she was well aware of the folly, she gave in to the temptation, let her gaze be drawn into its glowing depths, searching…

   Deep within, an image slowly shimmered to life. There, a couple danced, gazes locked to each other; a tall, golden man and a dark-haired beauty in white, floating about an empty ballroom, heedless of anything but each other. Of course she knew who they were. And although well aware of the dangerous, reckless line she walked, she could no longer help herself. She realized what she truly desired, more than anything else in the world, was to be reckless.

   As Sleeping Beauty once reached to touch her enchanted spindle, now Sarah Williams reached to cup her hand around the golden crystal and touch her dreams.

 


	5. Five

   Nothing happened.

   Sarah's fingers rested gently against the crystal, and yet there was no reaction at all. No sparks, no flashes … not so much as a fizzle. It was about as thrilling as a fireworks display in the middle of a thunderstorm.

   Clearly, this oh-so-special crystal was a dud.

   After several moments of this absolute nothingness, she scowled darkly, geared up to blast the Goblin King's ears for pulling such a nasty trick on her. _Again_. Before she could utter a word, the golden orb abruptly flared to life, which in turn caused her to release a rather undignified squawk of alarm, which she topped off with a gigantic leap backwards.

   She didn't release it, however. Or rather, it wasn't releasing _her_. It seemed to be melting, flowing up her arm in thin, golden rivulets, both scalding hot and bitterly cold, yet strangely painless despite being utterly _terrifying_.

   She thought she screamed, but she couldn't really hear much over the sound of her own frantic heart thundering in her ears. What kind of a sucker _was_ she to keep falling for such obvious tricks? Didn't she possess _any_ capability to learn from past mistakes? Her eyes burned with hot, angry tears as she glared at the stoic king, while he simply gazed back and seemed not at all concerned over the fact that his "gift" was eating her alive.

   The streams of light, in the meantime, had worked their way from one arm to the other, and now flowed over her body, traveled across her torso and down her legs. She brushed at herself fruitlessly and it was then that she noticed something odd.

   Where the light touched, her clothing transformed. Plain cotton and denim melted into yards of shimmering satin, frothy lace, the glitter of precious gems. It went on and on, until the light covered her head-to-toe. It pulsed around her like a warm, golden cocoon before abruptly fading into a shimmer of stardust. And Sarah found herself bedecked in the gown of her wildest fantasies. She breathed in awe, touched the soft fabric swathing her, noted the glitter of her bejeweled fingers … and couldn't help feeling just the tiniest bit foolish about her impromptu panic attack.

   A polite cough brought her eyes back to Jareth's face. He still watched her as the slightest smile twitched his perfect lips, and she just _knew_ he was laughing at her. She tried her hardest not to bristle at him. "I trust you're pleased with your gift?" he murmured, far too smug for her liking. "Does it suit you?"

   The strange expression in his eyes could almost be (that is, if she didn't know any better) mistaken for genuine affection. Their warmth belied his self-satisfied tone, and she found it oddly difficult to meet his gaze. "It's fine," she muttered. "I mean … yes. It suits me. Nicely." She cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably.

   "Well then. Shall we?" He extended a hand in the exact the same manner as in her dream, and her heart skipped a beat. Was he actually asking her to _dance_? Jareth noted her hesitation and offered a gentle smile. "Touch your dreams," he whispered.

   She blinked at the familiar phrase before her wide-eyed gaze dropped to his hand. Hesitantly, she extended her own toward it; she half-expected him to fade into mist the way he had in the dream, but the fingers that closed over hers were tight and strong, and as he pulled her close against him, his warm breath ghosted softly across her face, leaving her suddenly lightheaded.

   Was this the actual _swooning_ she'd always read about? At any other time, she might have been disgusted with herself. At the moment, she was too busy marveling at the novelty of being held in the Goblin King's embrace. Again. It was like before … only _more_. She must have grown a bit in three years, she thought. She remembered him being so much _taller_ back then. Or maybe it had been his overwhelming presence that made him so formidable. _That_ certainly hadn't changed. Except now he seemed formidable in a completely _different_ way that set the butterflies to waltzing on desperate wings inside her belly.

   He pulled her close as a soft, haunting melody swelled around them. It rose from the trees and the grass and the very air, a song as familiar to her as a cherished memory. He danced her around the glen, every movement graceful and precise, and just like the first time, Sarah allowed him to lead her and simply relished in the warmth and closeness of him, gazed into his beautiful face with the expression of a woman in love.

   He held her gaze as he sang softly; the dulcet tones of his voice flowed over her like warm honey, melted into her heart and soul. Deep down, she knew it was crazy to allow him to beguile her so thoroughly. She was foolish to let herself be so carried away by someone who used trickery and deceit to get what he wanted. But his words _felt_ sincere, and could even the Goblin King fake the sort of emotions that shifted through his enchanting eyes?

   At some point that she hadn't even noticed, their dance had turned from a waltz to a slow circle in the center of the clearing as Sarah relaxed further into his arms, dared to rest her head on his shoulder. He continued to sing into her ear, and by the time the final soft lyric drifted into the night air, they no longer moved at all. They stood perfectly still, bathed in moonlight and heedless of anything but each other as their gazes met and held for long, silent moments.

   After a time, Sarah slowly blinked, bringing an abrupt end to the trance into which they'd both fallen. Her senses began to return, and she realized with some trepidation that she was still wrapped rather intimately in Jareth's embrace. The gaze locked on her face seemed expectant, so she thought she ought to say something.

   "Th-the song was beautiful," she whispered. "Thank you, Jareth." Her cheeks heated in yet another blush when his name slipped from her tongue; it seemed such an intimate thing to call him. Which was silly, of course, since it _was_ his name, after all. "It was … a w-wonderful gift," she continued, stuttering slightly as her awkwardness began to return. "I never knew you could be kind."

   "There is much about me that you don't yet know." His reply was quiet, serious. "Perhaps, in time, you will discover more." He tilted his head, mismatched eyes searching her face. "But not tonight, I fear." He took one step back; his hands slid from her shoulders, down her arms, over her wrists, clasped her fingers within his own to hold them tightly. And she realized at once what was happening. This was his goodbye. He was going to leave.

   Of course, she reminded herself sternly. He _had_ to leave. He'd said himself that it was only for this night. And the night, it appeared, was nearly over. Without her notice, the dark sky had lightened, washed in the pale, grayish-pink light of approaching dawn.

   She tried to imagine it was relief she felt. It wasn't disappointment that crouched like a gargoyle inside her chest, digging stone claws into her heart. And it _definitely_ wasn't the fear that, after this night, she would never, ever see the Goblin King again. She straightened her posture, forced a smile to her lips that didn't come close to reaching her eyes, as none of her smiles ever seemed to do these days.

   "Well, I … I guess this is goodbye, then," she began with all the false cheerfulness she could muster, determined to prove that she wasn't at _all_ affected by his impending departure. "It was … surprisingly nice to see you again."

   Well. It had been _far_ more than nice. But she could barely admit that to _herself_ , let alone to _him_.

   Jareth continued to watch her, a sort of melancholy lingering in his eyes. "Yes. I suppose this is farewell," he agreed, and squeezed the hands still trapped within his own. He bowed and raised one, and then the other, and the warmth of his lips against her bare knuckles made her shiver with a flush of sudden longing. _What is this man doing to me?_ she thought despairingly.

   After this night, she would never again be able to pretend that fairy tales didn't exist.

   The clearing grew brighter as the sky took on the first, fiery hues of sunrise. The moon had finally wandered off; Sarah found herself wondering if it had only lingered for so long because Jareth willed it so, and had now released it to resume its normal descent.

   In the far distance, a rooster crowed. It wouldn't be much longer until her family began to wake. It was her job to help her grandmother and Irene start preparing Christmas dinner; if she didn't show up soon, they'd start wonder where on earth she'd gone off to. _I'll just tell them I was in the forest, dancing with the Goblin King,_ she thought, and imagining their expressions tempted a faint smile to her face.

   "What amuses you?"

   His voice drew her from her musings, and she gave her head a dismissive shake. "Nothing. I was just imagining how my family will react if I tell them what I've been up to. I guess they'll probably realize I'm missing before I get back. It's kind of a long walk."

   "I can send you back, if you wish," he offered.

   She blinked, taken aback by the offer. "Really?" Then she slid him a suspicious glance. "What's the catch?"

   She was rewarded with a bemused chuckle, even as he shook his head in a scolding sort of way. "Still so mistrustful, even now?" he chided, voice gentle. His smile seemed as sad as his remarkable eyes. "Dearest Sarah. My heart. Do you not yet realize that there is _nothing_ I would not do for you?"

   She sucked in a long, unsteady breath as her heart kicked in her chest. The gargoyle released its crushing hold as the meaning of his words hit home, left her stunned and shaken. When he grasped her hands, drew her close to him, she had no protest as his arm slipped around her, pressed firmly to her back. His silk-gloved hands slid up her neck, caressed softly over her face, tangled in the silk of her hair. Her eyes widened when she felt him tug, lifted her face to ease the harsh pull on her scalp.

   When a warm, firm mouth pressed to hers, she stiffened at the unexpected invasion. But only for a moment. In another moment, the strength flooded from her legs and she melted into his arms, her resistance crushed beneath a myriad of newly-awakened sensations and feelings.

   She'd been kissed just once before; a clumsy, sloppy, unwelcome attempt by a classmate, to which she'd responded with a hard slap before stomping off in disgust to wash her mouth.

   Jareth's kiss was _nothing_ like that.

   His was the kiss of a man who knew just what he was doing as he angled her head further to the side and fit his mouth more securely to hers, slipping past her lips to stroke and tangle his tongue with hers. She found herself trembling, nearly overcome with growing emotion that she was still too afraid to name. She'd never imagined anything could feel so intense, or so intimate, and the thought that she might never again experience this exquisite warmth nearly brought her to tears.

   Something inside her began to ache when they finally parted. The gargoyle returned, settling comfortably in her chest as it gripped her heart with both claws and squeezed. She stood in his arms for a long moment, trying to regain herself, refusing to meet the gaze she could feel steady upon her. If she looked at him now, she wouldn't be able to contain herself. She knew she would beg him to stay.

   She gathered her composure, taking her time to piece it together, and he seemed content to wait her out. And when she finally dared to look up, she was startled to find that the forest had vanished, replaced with the antique furniture and worn carpet of the guest room at her grandparents' house. The fantasy gown had also vanished like the dream it had been born from, leaving her feeling frumpy and unkempt and _normal_.

   A chilly breeze whispered through the opened window; she noted the sun just peeking over the canopy of trees to wash Jareth's hair in a halo of gold. She thought, in that moment, that he looked positively angelic, and her heart ached just a little more.

   His gaze still rested steady upon her, flickered a maelstrom of gentle warmth and unfulfilled desire. She could only stare back, trying to say what she knew she had to. Trying to tell him goodbye. She gathered her wavering courage, forced herself to open her mouth … and the words she hadn't intended to say came tumbling out in a soft, broken plea.

   "Please don't go."

   She froze, struggled to take the words back as his astonished eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Then her shoulders slumped, head lowering as she accepted her defeat. "I don't want you to leave."

   His hand caressed her face, and his smile was somehow radiant as he began to speak—

   A sudden, rapid pounding startled an embarrassing screech of fright from her, and she whirled to face the closed door, heart pounding for another reason, now. "Sawah!" came Toby's impatient call from the other side. "Get up! You pwomised we'd pway with my caw today! Get up! Pweeease?"

   Her fists clenched against the irrational anger that surged in a hot rush through her body, only to dissipate just as suddenly when Jareth suddenly laughed. She shot him an irritated glance, not nearly so amused. Of all the rotten timing! Her eyes narrowed as she glanced between the Goblin King and the door, considering. Was it possible to wish for the same child to be taken more than once?

   As if reading her mind, Jareth leveled her a stare that was both amused and chastising, and she sighed, feeling very much put out. This dream was ending far sooner than she liked. The enchanted, precious moments she'd had all to herself crumbled a little more with each insistent bang against the wood from Toby's impatient little fists. It just wasn't _fair_!

   She glared holes through the door and _willed_ him to get tired and leave. But Toby wasn't having any. If there was anyone more stubborn than Sarah, it was her little brother. She knew from personal experience that he'd keep banging away until she finally caved in to his demands and let him in. The stirrings of a headache tickled behind her temples.

   "He reminds me of somebody else I know," Jareth observed lightly, his voice soft and teasing. His eyes almost twinkled with mischief as he watched her.

   She shot him a dirty look, sighed again and shook her head. "Somehow, it's your fault. I just _know_ it," she snorted, and couldn't stop the pleased little flutter of her heart when he laughed again, eyes crinkled with humor, glowing with affection.

   Her expression slowly shuttered as reality once more began to intercede. "Is this the end?" she whispered. "You'll go back to the Labyrinth, and I'll stay here, and this will be just another dream that never really happened. Right?"

   "No." He shook his head, stepped closer as his hands rose to cradle her face. He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes slipping closed. "It happened. It was not a dream." His voice was little more than a breath against her lips. "I trust that you will never believe otherwise, and I promise you that I will not forget. I thank you."

   "For what?"

   His eyes opened to meet hers. "After all of my effort, you have finally bestowed upon me the gift of trust and friendship I have so long desired of you. Although we must part, keep me close in your heart and I shall always be with you."

_"SAAA-WAAH!"_

   Toby's full-throated bellow shattered the moment, and Sarah nearly broke down then and there, eyes closing as she rested her head against the Goblin King's chest. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to take him with you?" she half-pleaded, and felt more than heard his soft laugh as his hands caressed her face. Her head tilted back, soft lips briefly touched each eyelid, and his final words whispered across her ear as his warmth began to fade. "Farewell, beloved."

   A sharp breath, a moment of shock, and her eyes snapped open in time to catch the last, fading sparkles of his magic … which might have only been stirring dust mites caught in the golden sunrise.

   The strength bled from her legs as she sank slowly to the floor, trying hard to breathe. That was it? Was it over completely? Would she ever see him again, or had this been their final meeting, the reconciliation they'd both needed.

   Why had she only realized _now_ , when it was too late, that she was completely in _love_ with him?

   She felt an odd weight against her chest, and when she glanced down, the glint of metal caught her eye. Confusion gave way to astonishment when she lifted the silver chain around her neck to find Jareth's pendant dangling from its end, gleaming softly in the light. She blinked at it a few times, hardly able to believe that he would part with such a precious item. Was this a promise of some sort? Was it his way of telling her that he'd return someday?

   Hope bloomed, and she clutched the pendant to her heart, lips curving into a faint smile. He had to return, she told herself. She hadn't admitted her feelings to _him_ yet, after all. Although, she had the feeling he somehow already _knew_. Until the day he returned for her, she would keep the memories of this night and his gift close to her heart, and know that he was thinking of her, just as he had always thought of her. It would be enough, she told herself. It would have to be.

   Gathering her composure, Sarah wiped her eyes and rose to her feet, pasted a bright smile on her face and prepared to go out and face the real world.

 


End file.
